


Flickering Out

by Elleth



Series: Ladies Bingo 2017 [3]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Aftermath of Canonical Character Death, F/F, Ghosts, Goodbye Kisses, Post-Page 750
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth
Summary: At Tuuri's pyre, Sigrun gets a chance for a goodbye.





	Flickering Out

**Author's Note:**

> For the _Ghosts and Hauntings_ square of my Ladies Bingo card.

Ignition fluid hits the snow, and Emil gapes at her. Sigrun cradles her arm - it stings - and looks away when he fumbles another cartridge from his bandolier. 

She wants to slap this one away as well. If she spills enough of it, he can't douse the firewood in it, though what good it'd do not to burn Tuuri - nothing at all. It won't bring her back, and even if it could - they're already being followed by ghosts. They don't need a personalized haunting, too. 

She suspects, with Lalli hugging that tree like he does, he's already working his magic to keep that from happening. In addition to burning the body. In addition to ashes over a gross end that'll leave Tuuri's husk and bones lying under the sky of Silent Denmark forever. In addition to ground that's frozen too hard for a proper grave. Sigrun's tried hacking into the earth with her knife and found it hard as glass. 

No haunting. 

But oh, she wishes. How she wishes.

"Sorry," she says under her breath. She lets Emil think it's for him, when in reality it's for the dead girl underneath the unlit pyre. Emil says nothing, works the cartridge open. The stench of the chemicals splashing onto the wood stings Sigrun's nostrils, and the fumes make black spots rise in front of her eyes, or maybe that's just the fever. Either way she deserves it.

"A moment," she says when Emil is done, before he can drop a match to ignite everything. He pauses, looks at her with his face softening into tears against his will, and shakes out the flame. 

"You'll all have one," Sigrun adds. "Just let me go first." The rest of her team files away into some distance, where the dark of the early morning almost swallows them, leaving spectres in white uniforms lingering just within earshot of her outdoor voice. It'll have to do. 

Sigun sits down cross-legged in the snow. Wet as it is, it soaks her uniform pants in a matter of moments, but she can't really bring herself to care. There's a sheen of cold sweat on her forehead, too, she can feel that, but it's her face that feels wet. 

_Sigrun Eide is crying_ , she thinks with what's probably a grim smile. _Who would have thought?_

Tuuri's still, white face is just visible through the wood slats. If Sigrun looks at her just right through the blurriness of her tears, she can imagine Tuuri is breathing, not drowned. If she squints just right there's a pale after-image, almost like a spectre. 

Just then, the bright, quick chatter of a bird fills the clearing. Listening just right, Sigrun thinks it's almost the cadence of Tuuri's voice, cheerful and out of place in the cold forest. "You're a bit early, buddy," Sigrun says to the bare beeches, and the dark pine trees in between. Something bright, quick and tiny flits through the branches, and then out of sight. The song stills. 

Sigrun closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against the wood. The smell of chemicals gets stronger. 

"You know," she says to Tuuri. "I'd have stolen you away to Dalsnes if you wanted me to. Should have given me the chance, at least. We had that whole thing going that might have saved you, maybe. Carried around those dumb cure vials thinking I'd have to stick you with one, and then let the mages do their thing; who even knows with magic? Except - you just had to run off and go bathing, huh?" 

Of course Tuuri doesn't answer. She's dead. But there's a light filtering in between Sigrun's lashes, bright white-blue. For a moment she thinks Emil came back and lit the pyre, but it's not that. 

When Sigrun opens her eyes, there's Tuuri. 

Not alive, but she's there as a spectre, right in front of Sigrun, kneels, and takes Sigrun's face in her hands. Sigrun's cheeks sting with cold; Tuuri wipes at her tears, looking apologetic. Sigrun blinks her eyes to keep more from falling. Slivers of frost shiver from Tuuri's fingers. 

Neither of them speaks.

Sigrun reaches for Tuuri in turn. Even through her gloves, her fingers prickle like she's trying to hold snowmelt in her bare hands, and the touch is just as elusive. 

Sigrun presses her lips down onto Tuuri's, with all the force that desperation allows her. There's old-world stories that great-grandmother Sigrun liked to tell her as a little kid, about how kisses can bring the dead back to life and cause miracles beyond any type of magic that still exists in the world after its end. 

Just that moment, she believes they're true. 

It takes just that moment for Tuuri to flicker out, and for Sigrun to stay behind alone.

Next she knows, Mikkel is hoisting her to her feet out of the snow, her head throbs like a troll cracked her skull, and the only spot on her that's warm is the damn bite on her arm radiating heat. 

"You must have fainted." Mikkel disapproves, of course he does. She doubts he's even seen; ghosts can choose whom to show themselves to. No way he'd believe her. No way she is going to share it with him, or anyone else, except perhaps Lalli, if he ever learns enough Swedish to understand what she's saying in the first place - and even then, the kiss is all hers. 

And Tuuri's. 

In the trees, the same bird as before chatters a bright note, and falls silent.


End file.
